


The Most Wonderful Red

by TheWeepingAngelOfCas



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Body Dysphoria, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Sebastian kinda likes Grell, Sebastian/Grell if you squint, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 19:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20214736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeepingAngelOfCas/pseuds/TheWeepingAngelOfCas
Summary: Grell absolutely loved everything red. That was undeniable.Her hair. Her glasses. Her clothes.Yet she loved nothing more than the red of her blood.In which Grell learns she's beautiful, despite her parts.**********************There is self harm in this, so please only read if you're okay with that and it won't trigger anything. Stay safe!





	The Most Wonderful Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!!!! There is a lot of self harm in this!! Please don't read if that triggers you!! Stay safe and enjoy the fic!  
I tried my best to write the feeling of dysphoria correctly for Grell, but having never felt it in that way, I'm not sure if I wrote it correctly. Feel free to tell me what I'm not conveying correctly! Really, anything helps! Thanks!

Grell loved everything red. That was and forever would be undeniable.

She adored the red of her hair and the striking crimson hue of her glasses. Clothing, to her, was always best when already red, or at least coated in it. Sometimes, she wished she was like Sebastian. His eyes were red, one of the most amazing reds she had ever seen. If she was a demon, or a true woman, would he love her? 

A true woman. Grell wanted to be one more than anything. 

That was another reason she loved the color red. 

On the outside, she was a he. Her body was lacking crucial parts to make her whole. On the inside, she was beautiful. A silly notion, really. 'It's what's on the inside that counts.' In a way, it's true. On the inside, Grell doesn't have to be born a man. Besides anatomy, she's whatever she wants to be. A man. A woman. Neither.

On the inside, Grell is red. Her flesh is red. Her blush the prettiest shade of pink. And her blood...

Grell loved the color red. But the most beautiful red of all was her blood. She loved seeing it. The blood of other's was nice, yes. But it was something about the crimson dripping down her thigh that made it so much sweeter. Those other people were always born the way they wanted to be. Why did she have to be different?

It's on the inside that counts. 

It was that notion that left her where she was now. A blade to her forearm, like always. The new cuts were always so beautiful. They exposed the inside. They made her feel like a woman, as stupid as that was. The red would be everywhere. Dripping off of her arm in breathtaking rivulets and smearing across her thighs. Sometimes, she would swipe a few spare locks of red out of her eyes, and blood would be where her fingers brushed her forehead. 

She was almost a woman. Almost. 

At least, until the pain stopped and the cuts faded into little white lines. The white was so ugly. So very ugly. She would always pick at the scabs all over her body, keep them red for as long as possible. But they always closed up eventually. And then, well, she would make more. The deeper she went, the more she showed of herself, the longer it would all be red. 

She went as deep as she could tonight. 

It was so beautifully breathtaking. Pure bliss. Better than any feeling she had ever had. This was the closest she had felt to being a woman in so long. The bliss seemed to last both forever and for a moment, and soon she was looking down to blood that simply didn't stop flowing. At the deepest part of the cut, it wasn't red anymore, but more of a pinkish color. 

She would not die from this, no. But he showed up anyway.

Grell had been looking up at the moon, tears in her eyes, when he arrived. She had walked from her bed to the rooftop of the building, and the night sky had seemed so infinite and calming. One moment, she was looking up at the glistening stars and the ivory moon, and the next, he was being illuminated by it.

"Bassy." That was all she could say. Her arm immediately went to her side, pressed up against her vest and her pants. Perhaps he hadn't noticed it yet. Perhaps he had just been in the area.

Sebastian, of course, noticed.

"Grell, show me." His arm was extended, asking for her to take his hand. She wanted to so badly, but it would make her so vulnerable. When she shook her head, he sighed, "Really, I know you reapers are born of taking one's own life. No need to hide. Show me."

Gingerly, she removed her forearm from her side, hissing as the cuts were exposed to open air. Her trousers were stained in blood. The bleeding still hadn't stopped. Sebastian examined her arm, mumbling something to himself before pulling a roll of bandages from the inside of his jacket. He lathered Grell's arm in some kind of antiseptic, and bandaged it up. Grell would heal without any further help. Reapers were quite good at that.

"You don't love me." Grell couldn't make herself look at him. 

He kept his eyes on her arm, "No. I don't."

She had unconsciously begged for that not to be the answer, and upon hearing it, she couldn't help as tears pricked at her eyes. "Then why help me?" 

Sebastian finally met her eyes, a smile on his face, "Because I must admit, I've grown quite fond of you. I'd rather you not do this to yourself."

"I can't help it, darling."

"I know," His gloved fingers trailed over the layers of bandages, making sure they were secure, "But do try talking to me next time. I promise I'll help."

"Really?"

Grell's tears were flowing freely now, her face sheet white, her hair a messy halo framing her face. 

"You're a woman despite your parts. Quite a beautiful one, at that. I know that. I don't need to love you to know that. Come to me if you need me."

She looked away for merely a moment, trying to find the right words. When she looked back, he was gone.

The next night, she held her blade again, contemplating it.

_He said you're a woman._

_He called you beautiful._

_He doesn't love you._

The blade drew closer to her arm, and when she pressed down, she couldn't help but smile. Beads of blood bloomed, and then, she looked up. Going over to the window, she pressed a cloth to the new wound.

_"Sebastian."_

For a moment, there was nothing. 

Then, she heard him.

_"I'm here, my lady."_


End file.
